


Five Men Who Changed Rachel Cuddy's Life, And One Who Didn't

by yarroway



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Domestic Violence, Episode: s07e23 Moving On, Gen, Not really all that graphic but might be triggery, Teachers rock!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:22:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2504366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarroway/pseuds/yarroway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story about Rachel, the impact of family violence, and how someone can be harmed without ever actually being injured at all.  It begins in the aftermath of Moving On.  Each chapter is placed at a different point in time.  This is a dark fic about a dark subject, with a reasonably happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Stop it, Rachel. You've done nothing but fuss and cry all morning, and I'm sick of it!"

Grandma was mean. Rachel wanted Mommy and Peggy Panda. She wanted House. She wanted to go home. She threw her milk on the floor.

"Fine," Grandma said. "You want to go home? We'll just go see your house, then. Let's get those shoes on."

Rachel was happy. She loved Grandma. Grandma was going to take her home, and Mommy and maybe House would be there, and they would have fun.

They got in the car and drove and drove and then they were home.

"It's broken!" Rachel cried. A car was halfway inside the house and there was a big hole in the wall and everything had fallen down. She couldn't see where she ate breakfast anymore. How would she eat breakfast if there was no place to eat it?

"House tried to hurt your mother and your aunt, and if you had been home he'd have tried to hurt you too. That man you were asking for last night--he did this on purpose. He tried to hurt my girls." Rachel could hear the mad in Grandma's voice. "Now there's no more home, understand? He broke it. It's gone."

Grandma was very upset and Rachel knew that meant she had to be quiet now but she couldn't help crying. Rachel knew what something being broken and gone meant. It meant you never saw it again no matter what. Her house was broken into pieces like Mommy's plate when Rachel knocked it off the table and Mommy threw it in the garbage. So now someone would throw her house in the garbage and she'd never have Peggy Panda again, or her bed, or her cup with flowers on it.

Rachel cried harder. She was scared and sad and she wanted Mommy. "Mommy! Mommy!"

"She's not here," Grandma said. Grandma started the car.

Not here? Where was she? Was Mommy gone too? She thought of Mommy all broken like the dining room, and cried harder.

"No!" Rachel screamed as Grandma started the car. "No! No!" Rachel wanted to go into her broken house and get Mommy and her bear. She screamed and cried and begged but Grandma just said they were going to Auntie's house and could Rachel please, for God's sake, keep it down?

Auntie's house wasn't broken. Grandma got Rachel out of the car, and held her hand to walk to the doorbell.

The door opened. Rachel saw Mommy, and she was okay! Rachel ran to her as fast as she could. Mommy picked her up and told her that everything was all right now, and Rachel could smell her perfume and feel Mommy's hair soft against her face. She put her arms around Mommy's neck and her legs as far as they'd go around Mommy's sides. Mommy held her tight, and that made all the sad/scared feelings go away.

Mommy would fix the house. She knew it.


	2. Chapter 2

When Rachel was six, men came. She wasn't sure exactly when they started coming, just there they were when she ate dinner or after when she played before bed time. Mommy said they were her friends. She told Rachel their names, but Rachel could never remember. Sometimes they gave Rachel presents or played games with her. Sometimes they ignored her. Sometimes they got mad when she tried to play with them.

Once she woke up from a bad dream and a stranger-man was in her room! She screamed. Mommy came running in, her work jacket flapping like wings, and Rachel thought she'd make the bad man go away and call the police for him breaking into Rachel's room, but instead she scolded Rachel for being so dramatic and upsetting her friend.

"I don't care!" Rachel yelled. "It's my room and he can't come in!"

The man said he was just looking for the bathroom. Rachel never saw him again, but there were others

Rachel shoved the rocking chair in front of the door every night before she went to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

"There's something I need to tell you," Mom said.

Rachel looked up politely but continued spooning sour cream on top of her baked potato.

"The annual regional conference is in New York in two months. I haven't been to a conference in a year and a half. Now the Board of Directors has asked me to give a presentation on our ER redesign. They've also reminded me that I'm behind on my CE credits. I'm going to have to attend the convention."

"You can't go," Alan said.

Rachel ducked her head. She watched carefully from under her fringe of bangs.

"Why not?" Mom asked.

Rachel cringed. Mom never asked who Alan thought he was to tell her what she could and couldn't do. Mom said that Alan needed her, that he was insecure and as his wife it was her job to make him feel better. That the way he bossed her around just showed how much he really loved her.

Maybe so, but Alan never tried to make Mom feel better.

"We have inspections coming up two weeks afterwards," Alan said. "Remember how badly you handled the last one? You think the state inspection is going to be any easier? The hospital can't afford for you to screw up again, and I'm not taking care of Princess Tub-a-lard here while you run off for a week of fun!"

Rachel fixed her gaze firmly on her spoon, but she could practically feel Mom's eyes on her and her dinner plate with it's mountain of sour cream, double helping of biscuits, and untouched green beans.

"Fine," Mom said, in a tone that meant Rachel was in for another lecture about her weight and eating habits later on tonight. "I'll take her with me for the week."

She sounded so defeated. Rachel didn't want to hear another word. She scraped her chair back and walked out.

***

An hour or so later, Rachel was eating potato chips from the stash in her room. She'd just finished her math homework when she heard Alan yell.

He was going off on Mom again, trying to force her to not go to the conference. Rachel wasn't even sure why he was so set against it except that it hadn't been his idea first. He didn't like Mom to do stuff he hadn't told her to do. A year ago he'd seemed like a nice guy who was just a little possessive. Mom had said it was sweet. She hadn't known it would get worse. Back then this sort of scene had been unthinkable. Now it was normal. Alan liked power. Rachel thought that the reason he'd married Mom so quickly was because she was his boss, and this way he was kind of the boss' boss.

There came three loud bangs. Alan was slamming things.

Rachel got up and moved her desk away from the bedroom door. Last month Alan had thrown a full two-liter bottle of soda during a fight. It had hit Mom right in the chest. He swore it was an accident, but Rachel had seen him smile. She wasn't going to let that happen again.

Rachel slipped out the door and moved soundlessly to the stairs. She crouched going down them, her heart pounding nervously. She stopped at the halfway point where she could see the living room.

Alan held Mom by the wrist. She twisted and turned, but couldn't break free.

"I'm trying to help you, you crazy bitch," Alan said. "You're going to lose your job if you go to this conference. You're going to let the hospital get cited and pull your kid out of school for five days just so you can go have martinis with a bunch of divorced guys. After inspection the Board is going to ask you just what the hell you thought you were doing. You're going to embarrass yourself."

"Let me go," Mom said. Rachel admired how calm she sounded.

"That's it? 'Let me go,'" Alan said in falsetto. "That's all you have to say? That's your whole argument? You don't even care. You'll abandon me and ignore your responsibilities just so you can have fun. You're even going take Rachel out of school for a week. Her teacher said if she doesn't improve she'll have to repeat the fourth grade. You're going to risk that?"

"The extra attention will do her good."

"Extra attention don't make up for stupid. What were you expecting, raising some crack whore's kid? A fucking Rhodes scholar? She needs to be in school."

Mom opened her mouth to argue, then shook her head. "I can't talk to you when you're like this, Alan. Let me go, and calm down. When you're ready we can talk."

Alan's face turned red. "Don't play boss when we're home."

"Don't--" Mom began.

"Shut up!"

"Alan, just--"

"I said shut up" Alan yelled. He hit her. The force of his fist sent Mom reeling. Her back hit the wall. She fell.

Rachel flew down the stairs and slid between Alan and Mom. "Leave her alone," she said, her voice shaking. "Leave her alone." She didn't know what a fat, puny kid could do against a grown-up, but she had to do something. She had to at least try.

Alan had spent most of his rage in that punch. He shook his head. "She deserved that. It's just lucky for you I don't hit kids." He walked away muttering, "loyal as a dog and about as dumb" under his breath.

She stood there between Mom and the world, listening as Alan got his jacket from the closet and went outside. She heard his car pull away and waited until the sounds of the engine faded to silence. Rachel started a slow count to fifty. It was only then, when she could be reasonably sure Alan wasn't coming right back, that she turned around and knelt beside her mother.

Mom was bleeding. Her nose was three times it's normal size, and she had a big swelling on her cheek too. Mom struggled to sit up. Blood gushed from her nose, soaking Mom's blouse and Rachel's hand. It felt hot. Rachel fought down a surge of nausea.

"Get the first aid kit," Mom said.

Rachel swore at herself for not thinking of that on her own. She really was as stupid as everyone said. She ran to Mom's bathroom and got the kit. Mom put an ice pack on her face and showed Rachel where to hold it.

Mom began to cry. A deep sense of helplessness and shame flooded through Rachel. She hadn't been able to stop Alan. She hadn't protected Mom.

"I'm calling the police."

"No!" Mom said, but she was still bleeding and still crying, and more than anything Rachel wanted an adult there to handle this, to tell her what to do so she didn't have to decide.

"Mom, we have to. This isn't good."

"It was my fault, sweetie. He gets to a point that he's just so angry that I have to stop talking, and I didn't."

"Maybe so, but you're the one who used to tell me that even when a bully got me mad I still had to control myself and you'd punish me if I didn't. If that's true for me why isn't it true for Alan?"

"Oh, honey," Mom said, leaning against Rachel, "it's more complicated than that. Someday you'll fall in love and you'll understand. Now help me up. I need the big gauze pads."

Rachel vowed silently that she would never understand. She helped Mom to her feet. Mom swayed. Rachel tightened her grip on Mom's arm to keep her from falling as they made their slow, unsteady way towards the bandages.


	4. Chapter 4

Rachel was leaving class Monday afternoon when Mr. Davis called her aside. Mr. Davis had skin the color of hazel nuts, white curly hair, and a short white beard. He was the best teacher Rachel had ever had. He liked to tell stories to the class. Sometimes he'd teach them numbers or phrases in French. Sometimes he'd bring in his trumpet and play a song for them.

"Rachel, you didn't turn in your permission slip. Aren't you going to join the Debate Club?"

"Um," Rachel said in confusion.

"Doesn't your mother want you to? I've never had a parent refuse."

He seemed genuinely upset, and upsetting Mr. Davis was the last thing Rachel wanted to do. "I didn't ask her," Rachel said.

"You don't want to be in the club? Forgive an old man for pressuring you. It's all right."

Rachel bit her lip. "I'm no good at that kind of stuff," she admitted.

"What kind of stuff?"

"Stuff for smart kids," Rachel explained. She tried to sound like it didn't bother her. "I can't do any of it. I'm too stupid."

"Who told you that?" Mr. Davis asked indignantly.

Rachel felt tight and heavy inside. "Everyone."

Mr. Davis made an unhappy sound. "I've been teaching seventh grade here for a long time. You're a good student and a creative thinker. You can do this. If you want, you can come to the club a few times and just watch from the back. See what it's like and whether you want to join. Once you know more, you can make an informed decision."

Rachel stared at her teacher, looking for any hint he was teasing, and found none. Alan had used to say that she had to go to private school because she was so stupid that Mom had to pay people to teach her. But Mr. Davis seemed to really want her to join his club.

She wanted to try, but she didn't think she'd be any good at it. She'd just hold the other kids back and they'd get mad at her. That would ruin her chances of making friends here at Prep.

On the other hand, if she just watched without participating no one would be upset with her. Wasn't it smarter to see what the club was like before deciding anyway? It couldn't hurt to try it out. But she didn't want to agree now, not when she might feel differently about it all tomorrow.

Mr. Davis' eyes twinkled. "Aren't you debating with yourself right now?"

Rachel had to smile, a little, because she was. "I'll think about it."

"All right. Have a good afternoon." It was a dismissal. He wasn't going to press her for an answer.

"You too." Rachel felt easier inside. One of the things she liked about Mr. Davis was the way he had of letting you think things through and come to your own conclusions. Maybe she'd like the debate club. It could at least be fun to watch.


	5. Chapter 5

Rachel's phone buzzed. That would be Gavin again. Rachel checked his text.

_u will b sorry u fat ugly bitch_

Charming. This was the boy she'd schemed to get, the one she'd cried her eyes out over last night when she'd realized she had to confront him, the one she'd loved for four whole long, wasted months. The one she'd lost her virginity to.

Who was the real Gavin? Was he the guy who brought her flowers and held her when she cried over the SATs? Or was he the guy who threatened her because he couldn't handle breaking up? What kind of person could do both of those things?

Rachel texted her best friends, Lynne, Chava and Jessica. She felt better when Chava and Jessica made fun of Gavin for being such a loser. Lynne was dating Gavin's best friend, Mark, and didn’t answer. That was disappointing, but Rachel figured that if Lynne were concerned, she'd have replied anyway. His text didn't make any of them nervous. Well, if they weren't worried, Rachel wouldn't be either.

She headed downstairs to get some diet Dr. Pepper and the last of the sugar snap peas. Sierra the guinea pig squealed in excitement when she saw the veggies. Rachel petted her soft golden fur and gave her two of the peas.

Gavin couldn't really mean it. This was only talk, just a teenage boy's wounded ego. When Jessica had broken up with Brandon over the summer he'd threatened to kill himself, but he'd never done anything, and Gavin wouldn't either.

The next message came in just as Rachel seated herself in the living room.

_answer me! y won't u answer?_

She could practically hear Gavin's self-important whine. Now he wanted to talk. At lunch he'd called her an oversensitive, demanding drama queen when all she wanted was for him to stop putting her down to their friends. He hadn't wanted to talk to her then, but now that he was the one who was upset, she was supposed to ignore both his nasty texts and her own decision to break up, just to make him feel better.

If she did that, she'd have the upper hand for a while and could get him to agree to be nicer. But it wouldn't last. Living all that time with Alan had taught her that. If Rachel had learned nothing else, at least she knew she'd rather be alone than with someone who treated her badly.

_I'm gonna kill you and fuck ur bleeding corpse_

Rachel locked the windows and closed the blinds. She checked the security system even though she already knew it was on. Then she called the police. The 911 operator told her this wasn't an emergency and connected her to the local precinct, where the receptionist/operator type person listened to her story briefly before connecting her to a bored-sounding officer who, when she mentioned Gavin was her ex, told her to come in tomorrow and show someone the texts. "Your boyfriend hasn't done anything we can arrest him for, but if you want to make a complaint we can keep it on file."

Rachel thanked him and hung up. The police weren't going to come help her unless something happened. Something happening was what she wanted to avoid.

Who else could she call? Mom would know what to do. Rachel dialed the hospital switchboard with shaking fingers. The receptionist told her that Mom was in a meeting and couldn't be disturbed. Rachel left a message and said it was an emergency. She hoped Mom wouldn't think she was overreacting.

She hoped Mom would call soon.

Who else could she talk to? Grandma was too old and ill. Rachel shouldn't upset her. She didn't have work numbers for her aunt and uncle. She didn't think her friends would take her fears seriously, and what could they do, anyway? They were great at giving moral support, but not so good at anything else.

Rachel heard a car pull in to the driveway. She peeked through the blinds.

It was Gavin's car.

Rachel ran for the kitchen knives. She had the biggest one halfway out of the butcher block before she remembered that you weren't supposed to do that. At least she thought that's what Sensei had said back when she was a little kid and took karate.

Rachel's phone buzzed again. Gavin had sent her a photo of her house from the outside. As if she didn't already know he was there.

Okay, no reason to panic. The doors and windows were all locked. Gavin couldn't possibly get in. He was just going to knock on the door for a while and yell real loud. He couldn't even stay that long because it was Wednesday, so he had to get to softball practice...

...which meant his bat was in the car.

Rachel raced up the stairs. She got into her bedroom and pushed her desk in front of the door. Then she realized that was dumb, because it would be easy for Gavin to move it. Rachel shoved the desk aside and struggled with her bookcase. It was heavy. Even with cardboard still underneath it to make it slide it was almost impossible to move by herself.

There was a loud crash from downstairs. Gavin had broken a window. The alarm system shrieked.

Rachel got the bookcase in front of the door. She thought about hiding, but there was nowhere to go. Too late she realized that her bedroom was the first place Gavin would look. She should have gone to the garage. She could have run away while he was inside the house. Instead she'd trapped herself in a second floor room. Stupid! She could jump out of her bedroom window, but Rachel had never been athletic. If she did that she'd probably break her leg. She was so dumb that she was going to get herself killed!

The phone rang. That would be the staff at Safety First calling to confirm the alarm. There was no landline extension in her bedroom, but if no one answered they'd send help. At least, that's what their advertisements said.

No, wait--she thought she'd put their number into her cell phone when she first got it. Rachel scrolled through the numbers and found the right one. She hit call.

Rachel couldn't hear Gavin over the whooping siren. It was terrifying to know he was somewhere in the house but not know where. What could be taking him so long to get to her door? Or was he out there right now, waiting?

"Safety First, Dennis speaking."

"I can't get to the house phone, but someone broke in and the alarm's going off." Rachel decided not to mention that the someone was her ex boyfriend. The cops had stopped listening as soon as she said that. "He's in the house now."

"The phone you are calling from isn't in our system," Dennis said. "Tell me where you are. What’s your account password?"

Rachel couldn't remember the account password. Mom had drilled the code word for 'danger' into her head, though. Rachel swallowed. She'd never spoken it before.

"Vicodin."

The doorknob turned. He'd found her.

"That's not an account password, Miss. But don't worry. If your alarm is going off, we'll send the police out to your house automatically."

Gavin pounded something heavy against the door--his shoulder, maybe, or the bat. He was going to get in!

"When will they get here?"

"There is a one minute delay between the time the alarm sounds and the time the system sends a signal to the monitoring station. The staff there will try to reach you by phone. If you can't answer, they'll notify emergency services."

"Rachel!" Gavin screamed through the door. He slammed against it. The bookcase shook.

"When?" Rachel started to cry. Gavin was going to come in and hurt her. All the people who were supposed to help, weren't, and she was too stupid and too unskilled to handle this on her own.

Dennis was still talking. "Stay calm, Miss. I'll stay on the phone with you until the police arrive."

"Rachel!" Another slam. A few books fell off the top shelf. Could he knock the bookcase over?

"Hurry!" Rachel sobbed.

There was another thud against the door. The bookcase swayed. Oh, God! He really could knock it down.

Rachel dropped the phone. She put one hand on either side of the bookcase and leaned her weight against it to steady it. She could feel it shudder when Gavin hit the door. He smacked into it, over and over again, three times, five, more. Rachel could feel the force of each blow slam through the wall, through the bookcase, and into her body. A book fell, hitting her head on its way down. It hurt. Her hands were slick with sweat and her vision blurred with tears. Her head ached from the alarm's shrill screams.

She didn't know how much longer she could do this.

Gavin hit the door again. Books tumbled. Rachel's grip slipped, but she held on. She was uneasily aware that if enough books fell, the bookcase would weigh less and become much easier to move.

Gavin grunted like a gorilla and hit the door harder.

Rachel thought she heard sirens, but over the intense volume of the alarm she couldn't be sure. Gavin made that apelike sound again. Something splintered. The next hit was much harder. Had he broken her door?

Two more thuds, strong enough to inch the bookcase backwards. She was bleeding from somewhere. The muscles in her palms and arms ached. There came a huge crash from downstairs, and then a woman yelled, "Police! Drop your weapon!" and the banging stopped.

Rachel moved away from the bookcase. A few minutes later the police came in. Rachel could see Gavin handcuffed behind them. His bat lay discarded on the floor. It was chipped. He'd chipped his bat on her door.

The woman officer asked if there was anyone else in the house.

Rachel looked at Gavin. Handcuffs aside, he looked the same as always. He looked like he did when they lost a ball game--angry but normal. She couldn't understand why he looked so normal. She knew she didn't. She was crying and shaking, and her eyes were probably red and puffy. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and it stung. A book must have scraped her cheek as it fell.

Another policeman asked Rachel if she was all right.

Rachel didn't know if she was all right. Gavin had broken into her home with a bat and destroyed her door. She didn't know what he would have done if he had gotten to her. Would he have used that bat on her?

A fourth officer came in. He spoke quietly to the woman cop, but Rachel could hear him. She realized that the alarm had stopped wailing.

"No one else is here, but there was some kind of pet downstairs. Must be how he got that bite on his hand."

Sierra! Rachel ran downstairs. The cage lay on its side on the floor, across the room from where it belonged. Bedding and food were strewn everywhere. The cage was dented and misshapen--Gavin must have used the bat on it. Sierra wasn't inside. Had she fallen out when he went at her cage? Had Gavin taken her out and hurt her? Where was she?

Rachel looked around frantically, but saw no trace of her pet. "Sierra? Sierra, where are you," Rachel called. She was terrified that she going to find the sow's body crumpled in a corner somewhere. "Sierra!"

A scrabbling sound came from behind the kitchen counter. A moment later a little furry golden head appeared, it's black eyes worried.

"Oh, sweetie, you're okay!" Rachel scooped Sierra up into her hands. Gavin must have taken her out of the cage and she, smart little thing that she was, had bitten him. That bite might have saved her life. Rachel examined her pet fearfully. There was a little blood matted on Sierra's fur, and she moved awkwardly. Rachel had to get Sierra to the vet, but for right now, for this moment, she held her cradled against her chest.

"You're safe," she murmured as Sierra huddled against her. "I am so sorry. I will never, ever let this happen again. I promise."


	6. Chapter 6

A man dropped into the seat beside Rachel. He fumbled with his knapsack.

"Hi."

"Hi," Rachel answered without looking away from her sketchpad.

"I'm Tyler," he said.

This time Rachel glanced up. He had dark hair, soaring cheekbones, and intensely green eyes.

"Are you a student over at the art institute?"

Rachel sighed. "What I am is busy and not interested in having a conversation."

"This is a bar. Most people who sit here drawing are just trying to entertain themselves until they meet someone."

"I'm not most people, and I just told you I'm not interested."

"Okay," Tyler said, and rose to his feet. "I'm sorry I bothered you." He turned to go, hesitated, turned back. "Sorry again, but now I'm curious, and this will bother me all night if I don't at least ask. If you aren't with anyone and you don't want to meet anyone, why are you here?"

Rachel sighed again, in embarrassment this time. "The band that's playing tonight--my roommate is in it. I had to drive her here and help them set up, then later I have to help them put everything away and take her home."

"You must like your roommate a lot," Tyler said.

"Not just at this moment, no. I bet her that I could go all Talk Like A Pirate day without saying 'scallywag.'"

"Scallywag?" Tyler had a genuine, dorky-sounding laugh.

Rachel shrugged, smiling a little. "I like pirates."

Tyler straightened up. He was still smiling. "Apparently. Did you ever see those old movies with Johnny Depp?"

Rachel had. They talked about pirates and movies until the set started. Someone had let Josh the bass player go off alone before the show and he'd gotten stoned, so the band didn't sound very good, but the new drummer tried to make up for it and Jane power strummed her way through the songs and the audience didn't seem to mind. Afterwards, Tyler helped Rachel wrestle the instruments and equipment into Jane's car.

Jane was inside the bar fighting with Josh. The rest of the band were milling around outside.

"So," Tyler said.

"Yeah," Rachel smiled. "Thanks for the help."

"I know a great cafe," Tyler said hopefully, "if you want to get a coffee. Their mocha lattes will make you cry. If not tonight, maybe some other time? I'd really like to see you again."

"If by 'see' you mean 'date,' I'm not interested. I told you that already."

Tyler's expression fell. "Is it me, or do you react to every guy this way?"

"I'm cautious by nature," Rachel admitted.

"I know there are some real jerks out there, but we're not all like that. I don't cheat, I don't play head games and I don't use drugs. I don't clean much, but growing up with three sisters taught me to always leave the seat down, and I can cook. I'm not just looking to get laid, here. I'm looking for the real thing. I'm a good guy, Rachel, and if you let me walk away now, you'll never know if we could have been good together."

He painted a pretty picture. Rachel had a rule against dating people she didn't know, but it seemed arbitrary when measured against a no-strings date with a sincere, clean-living guy who was cute as hell.

Assuming he'd told the truth.

He hadn't, though. Even if everything he said were true, he'd left out all his faults except the one about not cleaning, which, now that she thought about it, was a common fault that most people would overlook. He'd mentioned it to put her off her guard and lend verisimilitude to the rest of his little speech. Which wasn't so bad, really. Everyone lied about stuff like this. Tyler just disguised it better. Come to think of it, he'd fast-talked his way into sitting at her table earlier. Hadn't she told him twice to get lost? Yet he'd still ended up beside her. Did that mean he really liked her, or that she really liked him? Or was it a warning that he would ignore her wishes in other ways too? Was it worth taking a chance? Rachel wasn't sure. She made lousy snap decisions. That's why she thought things out ahead of time and established rules for herself.

Rachel chewed her lip. Part of her wanted to say yes just to avoid his reaction to being turned down. She glanced nervously around the parking lot. There were a number of people around, including her friends.

"Look," Rachel said, "you might be as good a person as you claim. You could also be a serial killer. I don't know. I can't know. I only just met you. What I do know is that you have a good sense of humor, and you've got charisma, but you're manipulative and you don't listen well to the word 'no.' So, no. I am not going to go out with you."

Tyler's eyes flashed. "Fine, I won't bother you anymore. Just remember that if you never give anyone a chance, you're going to end up alone." He was quiet a moment, looking at her. Then he walked across the parking lot to his car and pulled out. A moment later he was gone.

Rachel loosed a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Tyler was right, but that was okay. She liked being alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to my wonderful beta, srsly_yes.  
> Disclaimer: House, M.D. belongs to Heel & Toe Films, ShoreZ Productions, Bad Hat Harry Productions, and Universal Media Studios. I'm not making any money from this.  
> 


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